An Unwilling Conquest Part 43

Once free, Harry hesitated, then followed in Lucinda's wake. His declaration that he was finished with her rang mockingly in his ears; he shut off the sound. After trying a number of tacks, he finally located her, at the centre of her inevitable court. Ruthven was there, as were Amberly and Satterly.

Harry's eyes narrowed.

Amberly was at Lucinda's side, chatting with his usual facility; he gestured hugely and everyone laughed, Lucinda included. Then it was Satterly's turn; Hugo leaned forward and smiled, clearly retelling some on dit or recounting some incident. Ruthven, on Lucinda's AN

UNWILLING CONQUEST.

other side, glanced down at her. He was watching her face closely.

Harry's lips compressed.

Concealed by the crowd, he focused on Lucinda. She smiled at Satteriy's tale yet the gesture lacked the warmth Harry knew it could hold. The conversation became general; she laughed and returned some comment but without the a.s.sured gaiety she normally displayed. The dangerous tension that had gripped him eased.

She was subdued--very possibly unhappy beneath her calm veneer.

Guilt welled; ruthlessly, Harry stifled it. Serve the d.a.m.ned woman right--he'd offered; she'd refused.

He'descaped a dangerous situation. Logic suggested he remove himself from further temptation. Harry hesitated, and saw Ruthyen offer Lucinda his arm.

"Might. I suggest a short stroll about the terrace, m'dear?" Concerned by the wan, haunted look in Lucin~'da's eyes, Ruthven could think of nothing else that might bring her some ease. Her gaze, dark and shadowed, constantly roamed the crowd.

"Some fresh air will help you forget this stuffy ballroom." Lucinda smiled, aware her brightness had dimmed.

"Indeed," she said, glancing around.

"The atmosphere is too close for my comfort, but She hesitated, then glanced up at his lordship.

"I'm really not sure..." She let the words trail away, unable to put her uncertainty into words.

"Oh--don't worry about that." Mr Amberly waved expansively.

"Tell you what--we'll all go." He smiled en ouragingly at Lucinda.

"Nothing anyone could make of that, what?"

Lucinda blinked--and glanced at Lord Ruthven and Mr Satterly.

"Capital notion, Amberly." His lordship again offered her his arm, this time with a gallant flourish.

"Just the ticket." Mr Satterly nodded and stepped back, waving her on.

Lucinda blinked again. Then, realising they were all watching her, waiting, genuine thoughtfulness their only motivation, she smiled gratefully, and even more gratefully relaxed.

"Thank you, gentlemen, that would indeed be most kind of you."

"Only too happy," came from Mr Satterly. "A pleasure, m'dear," from Mr Amberly.

Lucinda glanced up and found Lord Ruthven's eyes ruefully twinkling.

His lips twisted in a wry smile.

"Nothing too good for a friend, you know." More rea.s.sured than she had been all evening, Lucinda smiled back. '~ From the depths of the crowd, Harry watched the little cavalcade head off, Ruthyen steering Lucinda in Satterly and Amberly's wake. As the realisation that Ruthven's goal was one of the long windows opening onto the terrace crystallised in his brain, tension gripped Harry anew. He took a step forward--then stopped short.

She was no longer any business of his. Satterly and Ambefiy stood aside for Lucinda and Ruthven to pa.s.s through the window--then followed. Harry blinked. For an instant, he stared, eyes slowly narrowing, at the gently billowing drapes through which all four had disappeared.

Then his lips curved cynically. With such cavaliers, the lovely Mrs Babbacombe had no need of further protection.

Somewhat stiffly, he turned on his heel and headed for the card room

"Aurelia Wilc.o.x always did give the best parties." Em rustled her silks in the dark of the carriage as it rolled down Highgate Hill. After a moment, she diffidently added,

"Didn't see Harry tonight."

"He wasn't there." Lucinda heard the weariness in her voice and was glad Heather, curled on the seat opposite, wasn't awake to hear it. Her stepdaughter was thoroughly enjoying her taste of the ton in a wholly innocuous, innocent way. If it hadn't been for Heather's undoubted enjoyment, she would be seriously considering removing from the capital, regardless of the fact that such a move would clearly signal defeat.

She felt defeated. Tuesday night had just come and gone, with no sign of Harry. She hadn't seen him since Lady Mott's ball on Sat.u.r.day evening; since then, he had not even been present at the b.a.l.l.s and parties they had attended. His presence was not something she would miss--his gaze had always triggered a certain sensation, quite unique, within her.

A sensation she now missed--dreadfully. "Perhaps he's already left London?"

Her tone was uninflected, yet the words embodied her deepest fear. She had played her cards and lost.

"No." Em stirred on the seat beside her.

"Fergus mentioned that Dawlish is still haunting the kitchens."

Softly, Em snorted.

"The Almighty only knows to what purpose."

After a moment, Em went on, her voice low,

"It was never going to be easy, y'know. He's as stubborn as a mule--most men are over matters like this. You have to give him time to get used to the idea--to let his resistance wear itself out. He'll come around in the end--just wait and see." ' Wait and see. As the carriage rattled on over the cobbles, Lucinda laid her head back against the squabs and reviewed her recent actions. No matter how she tried, she could not regret any of them--faced with the same situation, she would act as she had again. But neither dwelling on' the past--nor idling through the present--was advancing her cause. But she could hardly seduce Harry again if he didn't come near her.

Worse--he was no longer concerned for her Safety, even though Lord Ruthyen, Mr Amberly and Mr Satterly had been particularly a.s.siduous in their attentions. Indeed, if it hadn't been for their enthusiastic if totally platonic support, she doubted she could have held her head up over these past nights. The b.a.l.l.s, which she had initially found fascinating, had lost their attraction. The dances were boring, the waltzes trials. As for the promenading, the incessant visiting, the constant appearances demanded by the ton, she increasingly saw them as a waste of time; her business persona reemerging, no doubt. If she told true, she now viewed the time she spent in tonnish endeavours as a very poor investment.

It was unlikely to render her the return she sought. Unfortunately, she hhd no idea what new tack to take, how to realign her strategies to bring her goal back in sight.

Her goal, in this case unfortunately not inanimate, had taken matters into his own hands--which left her with nothing to do but wait--a scenario she found intensely irksome.

Lucinda stifled a snort--Em's habit was catching. But Em was very likely right--again. She would have to wait--she had played her cards.

It was Harry's turn now.

Some twelve hours later, Harry lounged in his customary pose, propping the wall in the long ballroom of the Webb residence in Mount Street, idly watching the crowd gathered to celebrate his brother's nuptials. His father, of course, was there, sitting in his chair at the other end of the room.

Beside him sat Era, resplendent in deep blue silk. Her princ.i.p.al houseguest had not attended.

Not, of course, that he needed to worry his head over where she was or what she was doing. Not with the way his friends were behaving. Over the past five days, they had taken to squiring her everywhere while coolly regarding him with a pointedly critical air. Ruthven, indeed, with a sublime disregard for the cryptic, had felt to tell him he was a d.a.m.ned fool'.

Ruthven--who was six months older than Harry, but had yet to show the slightest sign of bestirring himself enough to find a wife. Ruthyen--who had a t.i.tle to keep in the family. Disgusted, Harry had snorted-and informed his erstwhile friend that if he was so enamoured of the lady then he could pay her price.

Ruthven had blinked, then had looked a trifle abashed.